


First, Second, Third, Last

by tsuristyle



Category: SMAP
Genre: Hate to Love, LOHAS being LOHAS, M/M, avast ye mateys there be breakup feels here, briefly unhealthy relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-31
Updated: 2016-12-31
Packaged: 2018-09-13 16:35:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,145
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9132433
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tsuristyle/pseuds/tsuristyle
Summary: Goro loves each of his bandmates, in time.(But last is never least.)





	

Shingo is the first.

They were friends, once. Then Shingo had turned into an _obnoxious brat_ , and Goro had become, well, _a stuck-up playboy_ was how Shingo put it, when he was putting it mildly. It was like two magnets facing the wrong way: they repulsed each other at every turn, a distance between them that neither was inclined to overcome.

But like magnets, there's always a side that's attracted, no matter how far it gets pushed away. Goro and Shingo had _hated_ each other, and yet it had taken just the slightest compromise-- a shared smile, both of them letting their guards down for a moment-- for them to snap together. Not that they don't still hate each other; but the more they get under each other's skin, the more they want to satisfy that itch.

"What, that's all I am to you? An itch?" Shingo smirks against Goro's neck, his hands busy unbuttoning Goro's shirt and tugging it off his shoulders. "I thought you at least liked me for my sexy looks."

Goro snorts, his shirt pooling on the floor next to the bed. "You're hardly the hottest guy I've ever slept with." He tugs open Shingo's belt, letting his pants join the shirt. "I just mean that you make me want to do _this_ ," he clarifies, and grinds their hips together, meeting Shingo's mouth in a wet, breathless kiss.

Shingo pants when they break apart, his arms wrapping tightly around Goro's back. "Then I'll just have to show you what _you_ make _me_ want to do," he replies, and backs Goro into the bed to do exactly that.

  
Tsuyoshi is the second.

Goro is calmer, more patient by then, and sharing space with Tsuyoshi has always been oddly soothing, even back in the days when Goro thought himself better than his less popular bandmate. He has no such illusions now; Tsuyoshi's kindness brings out his own kindness, and he likes himself better for it.

"I brought bread for breakfast tomorrow," Tsuyoshi says, proudly holding up a bag of grain-speckled bread as he takes off his shoes. "Oh, and, um."

Goro accepts the bread, putting it in the kitchen next to the fruit Tsuyoshi brought the other day. "And what?"

Tsuyoshi blushes a deep shade of red. "I, um, wanted to, um, try being on the bottom this time. If you don't mind, I mean."

Goro raises an eyebrow. Tsuyoshi seems perfectly content to be on top, which suits Goro more than fine; what's brought on this sudden change of mind? "You don't want to be on top?" He can't help sounding a tiny bit disappointed, but he won't be selfish, not if it's for Tsuyoshi's sake.

"No! I just, uh, want to know how it feels." Tsuyoshi turns even redder, right to the tips of his ears. "So I'll know how to make it better for you," he adds, with a little embarrassed smile.

Goro laughs. He should have known, really. "You're already doing a good job of _that_ ," he assures the younger man, giving him a kiss on the cheek. "But if you're _really_ curious, I suppose I could teach you a thing or two."

  
Nakai, unexpectedly, is the third.

He thinks, at first, that Nakai comes to him out of curiosity, wanting to give in to this side of himself with someone safe. But it isn't that; Nakai admits, of the few things he reveals, that he has done this before.

So maybe it's for pure pleasure, which Goro is no stranger to. He still doesn't know why Nakai would choose _him_ \-- for years Nakai belittled him, making jokes and comments that pushed past the point of laughter to something more personal. They've grown since then, and the words have gotten softer, but even now Nakai still jokes about the very thing he comes to Goro for, and Goro can't help but feel the sting of that continued denial. There can't, he thinks, be anything to this _but_ pure pleasure.

And yet, he isn't sure. Nakai insists on being on the bottom, pushing Goro to go faster, harder, rougher, to the point where Goro wonders if it really feels good at all. It's almost as if he _wants_ it to be unbearable, like he wants to be at Goro's mercy, like he wants it to be some kind of _punishment_ \--

Goro stops, panting, braced on his arms over Nakai. "Nakai-kun," he says, his throat suddenly tight. "Do you think I want to _hurt_ you?"

Nakai looks up at him, eyes startled and wary. His hands are still clenched too tightly on the bedcovers. "Don't you?"

Goro leans down, resting their foreheads together. "Nakai-kun," he starts again, whispering because he doesn't quite trust his voice. "I just want to forgive you."

He kisses Nakai, once, gently. After a moment, a hand-- tentative, uncertain-- settles onto his shoulder, and Nakai kisses him back.

  
Kimura is the last.

He'd always thought Kimura would be the first. The first and last. The only. He'd loved Kimura desperately, long before he'd been comfortable with who he was, and Kimura had loved him back, in smiles and gentle touches and one impetuous, experimental kiss. If he _had_ been the first, it would have been impetuous and experimental, too, and maybe that's why they hadn't. It was too important; it meant too much.

It still means too much, but there is nothing impetuous or experimental about this now. Kimura's hands are everywhere on him, as if trying to learn him in his entirety, his mouth only leaving Goro's to savor the taste of him elsewhere. There's a desperation in his movements, as if Goro is a thing to be remembered, as if he might disappear with the morning sun and leave Kimura on his own, alone.

It's not an unfounded fear.

Goro tugs Kimura back up, wrapping his arms around the older man's neck and kissing him long and sweet. He doesn't want to be a remembered thing. He wants to be what he is.

"Takuya," he says, gently brushing back hair to meet eyes full of intense longing. "Are we SMAP right now?"

Kimura frowns, propping his head up on one arm. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Goro pokes the tip of Kimura's nose. "It means you're Takuya," he answers, drawing a line from Kimura to himself. "And I'm Goro. That's who we are."

Kimura's expression slowly softens as the words sink in. "Goro," he says, quietly. Then again, stronger, like something he'd thought broken hadn't been so fragile after all. Goro isn't going to disappear; none of them are, and whatever shape they end up taking, they won't stop being what they are to each other.

Goro smiles up at Kimura, and wraps his arms around him again for another, longer kiss. Kimura might be his last. But now, Kimura will also be his forever.


End file.
